


I can't find the light in my heart

by leigh57



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leigh57/pseuds/leigh57
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve only been sharing for three weeks, but she’s already used to pushing up against the wall, because he insists on being on the outside, his body between her and … everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I can't find the light in my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adrenalin211](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrenalin211/gifts).



> This is for adrenalin211, who prompted me with Daryl/Carol, temporary separation. I'm putting it up because of post-premiere flail. Please forgive the rockiness; I wrote it on my phone on the train.
> 
> The title lyrics are from Cyndi Lauper's song, "Fearless."

____________

He’s still not back when dinner’s laid out, small even portions of potato soup with carrot strips and a decent chunk of grainy bread for everyone.

Carol rubs her finger back and forth over the frayed denim edge of her jacket cuff and stirs her soup in a figure eight, listening to the clink of spoons and the muted hum of multiple conversations.

One of the kids giggles while he blows into his straw, his reconstituted powdered milk expanding frothy bubbles dangerously close to the top of his glass.

She can’t swallow.

A second later, Glenn drops down beside her, squeezing her arm for a quick warm second. “I’m sure he just had to detour.” His voice is low and soothing, pitched to make sure nobody else can hear. “He’ll be back any minute. I swear.”

She can’t look at his eyes without cracking, so she chooses his left cheekbone and makes her best attempt at a smile. “I know. I’m fine.”

He nods at her bowl. “Do I get to guess how many bites of that you’ve eaten?”

"No, _Dad_." This time the smile’s only five degrees away from real. "Will you give this to Carl?" She pushes the bowl towards him. "I’m gonna take a shift in the tower."

"Yeah, sure." Glenn touches her shoulder before she walks away.

On the way to the tower, she presses her hand into her stomach, right against the place where the panic pulses, blooming and swirling like ink dropped in water, and she allows herself exactly one minute to lose it.

By the time she climbs the steps, her face is dry and her breathing as close to normal as it’s likely to get, and if there are tracks on her cheeks, it’s too dark for anyone to notice.

*******

He’s still not back at 2 a.m., when she finally forces herself to crawl (fully clothed, down to her shoes) into their bunk.

They’ve only been sharing for three weeks, but she’s already used to pushing up against the wall, because he insists on being on the outside, his body between her and … everything else. One of his shirts is halfway across the pillow; she grabs it and presses it against her cheek, closing her eyes while she tries not to think.

But the panic is a living thing now, arcing up her neck and down her spine and into her hands, which won’t stop trembling until she balls the cool cotton of Daryl’s shirt into her fists.

She concentrates on breathing.

*******

Maybe an hour later, the nighttime silence is broken by muted voices, creaking hinges, and the thud of boots on cement. Heart hammering, she jumps up and runs into the hallway.

And he’s there.

The relief stops her cold, but in three strides he’s got an arm around her so tight that her feet aren’t even on the ground anymore. She puts her face in his neck, breathes in blood, dirt, and sweat.

His mouth against her ear, he whispers, “I’m sorry. Ran into a horde and had to take a detour. Then I couldn’t find any goddamn gas.”

"You’re here. It’s fine," is all she manages for the moment.

He kisses her hair, light. “Go to bed, okay? I’m gonna take a shower. Be there in ten minutes.”

She nods, makes herself let go.

*******

Eight minutes later he slides in beside her, smelling like crappy industrial soap and that cinnamon mouthwash he found on a run a couple of weeks ago.

They already have a ritual, his hand on her hip and her foot between his ankles, and she blinks when she feels his palm through the thin tank top she wears to bed.

"Glenn said you didn’t eat dinner," he mutters, breath soft against her hair.

She smiles in the darkness, the incandescent effortless kind she can feel spreading warmth all the way to her fingertips. “I’ll eat your breakfast tomorrow.”

He scoffs, fingers a little tighter on her hip. “No you won’t.”


End file.
